In Time and Space
by Kerry Bo Berry
Summary: A girl shows up at Hogwarts with no recollection of her past and Harry finds himself helping her figure out where she came from and why she is there. Rated for some sensuality and violence in later chapters. ABANDONED.
1. There Was a Girl

In Time and Space

Chapter 1 - There Was a Girl

Disclaimer: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks for editing. To the readers: Enjoy!

Bright, white light pierced through her closed eyelids as she regained consciousness. The girl rolled onto her side and moaned as a hammer pounded painfully in her head. Her blue eyes opened to regard their surroundings; white ceilings, white walls, white curtains, and white light. She didn't know where she was, nor where she had been. She winced as the pounding increased. Slowly she raised herself into an upright position; she noted she was in a bed. Looking down, she saw she was wearing baby blue pyjamas. A lock of brown hair fell in her view and she pushed it back behind her ears. Reaching back, she ran her fingers through the tresses; they were thick and tangled, falling down just past her shoulders. She massaged her temples a little to relieve the pain. She fell back down on the bed, grimacing as her head protested fiercely, and scolded herself for forgetting her physical state. Her attention was caught by the soft sound of fluttering, and she cautiously turned her head to the side to see what had made the noise. The curtains had blown a piece of parchment off a desk and onto the floor.

Moving slowly, but with purpose, she got up and shuffled over to pick it up. She felt a little dizzy as she stood back up, but she ignored the sensation. She instinctively realised she got headaches a lot. She placed the parchment on the desk and pulled back the curtains. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the light, but she looked out the window regardless.

A stunning view met her eyes. She was up in some sort of tower, overlooking an old-fashioned courtyard with a large belfry opposite her. The clock struck four, and she frowned as she realised how ridiculously long she had slept in, although she could not remember when she had fallen asleep. Perhaps she had just napped. But she didn't feel like she had just napped, she didn't feel like anything at all. Testing this notion, she slowly clenched her fist and pressed her fingernails into her palm. She pushed until her whole fist was shaking but she still did not feel a thing. Opening her hand up she looked at her palm. Four small crescents were slowly fading from her skin.

"Weird," she said aloud. She swore as she accidentally knocked an inkwell off the desk, startled by the sound of her own high and feminine voice. Black ink splattered on the floor, fortunately missing her pyjamas.

"Is someone there?" a voice asked from behind. She turned in fright to face the speaker.

"Hello?" the girl replied, as a woman appeared from a side door she had not noticed before. The woman was old, with white hair and many wrinkles, but she had a certain youthful quality in her eyes and strength in her posture. The woman was dressed in a formal nurse's uniform and the young girl deduced she was in some sort of medical facility. The woman looked around, her eyes skimming the room and passing right over the girl.

"Peeves! I'm not in the mood for another one of your pranks!" she announced in exasperation as she spotted the mess of ink almost blocked by the girl's body.

"Who's Peeves? Am I Peeves?" the young girl asked with a frown, this was all very strange and she was sure that the old woman had yet to actually notice she was here. The woman ignored the girl's question and marched over to the mess on the floor. The girl side-stepped out of her way just in time as the nurse passed her. Stopping in front of the stain the woman produced a long wooden stick from the voluminous robes she was wearing. She pointed it at the spot, and with a word and a wave, the mess was gone. The girl cocked her head in fascination, what a unique talent, but not unusual. This was getting very strange indeed.

"Sorry about that, I was just—" But the woman had already turned sharply around and was heading back to her office. "Wait! I—" she continued, shifting in front of the woman to try and stop her. Amazingly, the nurse just continued on her way, and stepped through the girl. Suddenly, thoughts, memories, and scenes that were not hers overtook the girl.

_A young mousy-looking girl wearing black robes with a blue and silver badge on the left breast peered around a bookshelf at a boy with black hair and green eyes, engrossed in a book…_

_The girl, a little older now, smiled as the boy pushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead with care… _

_The girl, dressed in summer clothes, poured over a long letter and clutched it close to her chest, falling back on her bed; she stared at the ceiling with a goofy grin on her face… _

_Tears poured down her face as she ran down a deserted corridor. She stopped as she spotted the boy who had broken her heart. He was standing at the end of a staircase and looking up at a party of people who were carrying a stretcher, obviously holding a body. They worked their way down the stairs and around the corner to where the girl was standing. The girl stared at the stretcher and whispered: "He'll pay Murtle, even if Dippet won't believe me, I'll tell the world what he did to you…"_

And with a flash of white light it was over. The girl dropped to the floor and clutched at her head. She fought off the nausea that overcame her and put the side of her face against the floor, trying to gain some bearing. She felt dizzy and with a moan she collapsed completely and passed out.


	2. There Was a Boy

In Time and Space

Chapter 2 – There Was a Boy

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To my readers: Enjoy!

Harry Potter sighed in defeat as he touched back down to the ground. It was the first Quidditch game of the school year and Gryffindor had just lost to Slytherin. Harry didn't even react to Draco Malfoy's taunts as he walked back to the change rooms. Ron's keeping had been awful, as usual, and even though Harry's Quidditch ban had been removed, his heart was not in the game. As a result, Draco had caught the snitch when the Slytherins had been up 130 points to Gryffindor's 10. Harry's heart hadn't been in much of anything since his godfather had died four months ago. Currently, all his marks were at a P level; he couldn't go through one night's sleep without being awoken by nightmares; and he had not had a decent conversation with Ron or Hermione in weeks. Not that he cared either way.

Harry quickly changed out of his red and gold Quidditch uniform and replaced it with his black school uniform. He cringed in pain as he slipped his arm into the shirtsleeve. He had forgotten about the hit he had taken from a bludger at the beginning of the match. The new beaters replacing Fred and George were not nearly as good as their predecessors, and Harry was currently paying for their inadequacy. Hearing the other team members making their way over to him, he swiftly exited the change room and made his way to the Hospital Wing. Off in the distance he could hear the bell tower chime four times. He couldn't wait until the day was over and he could forget about the horrendous Quidditch game.

He stared at his shoes as he ascended the stairs to the Hospital Wing. He had tried to suppress the pain of godfather's death, but no matter how he tried, he could not forget the look on Sirius's face as he passed through the veiled ark. The memory seemed to haunt him at every moment, and Harry could do nothing to make it stop. Finally, he had managed to detach himself from the pain. So what if he had killed his godfather? He would probably end up killing more than just one before the prophecy was fulfilled.

Reaching his destination, he pushed open the double doors and stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was a crumpled figure lying on the floor by the window. Rushing over and rolling the body over, he realised it was a girl. She was pale with brown hair and a freckled complexion. Shaking her slightly, though carefully, to avoid provoking the pain in his shoulder, he called out for help, "Madame Pomphrey!" He turned back to the girl and started as he realised she was staring back at him. He blushed and released the girl from his arms.

"It's no use, you know. She can't see me," she said still staring at him. She reminded him vaguely of Luna Lovegood.

"What do you mean she can't see you?" he asked, just as Madame Pomphrey came running out of her office.

"What's the problem, Mr. Potter? Where does it hurt?" she asked coming to rest right beside him, and taking his face in her hands. Harry's eyes flicked over to the girl on the floor. Madame Pomphrey took no notice of her, busily checking over each of Harry's limbs. He recoiled from her as she grabbed his bad arm. "Right, dislocated shoulder, nothing to scream about," she removed her wand and pointed it at his shoulder with a muttered word. As if to argue her point he screamed in agony as his shoulder was wrenched back into place. Almost as soon as it started it ended and his shoulder was only slightly smarting as he tested it. "You can be on your way now, Mr. Potter, if that is all," she said as she got up to leave.

"But what about her, Madame?" Harry asked, gesturing to the girl who was still sitting quietly, "she was lying unconscious when I got here."

"Sure you didn't hit your head as well, Mr. Potter? I have no idea as to whom you're talking about," she replied, turning around to inspect her patient. Harry looked straight at the girl and she shrugged her shoulders in return.

"I think it would be best if we just left her out of this situation," the girl replied.

"Never mind," Harry said to the Nurse and gave her a slight smile, "I must have been seeing things."

"Not under the Confundus Charm are you, Potter?" she asked with a raised brow.

"No, not that I know of anyway," he answered. "But if I feel anymore confusion I'll let you know."

"Don't bother, Mr. Potter. I've heard of your marks and I'm a poor tutor," Madame Pomphrey retorted with a chuckle and returned to her office.

"Wow, what crawled up her buttocks and died?" Harry said with broken pride.

"She's just had a rough life, that's all," the girl responded, as she shakily stood upright, clutching at her head.

"And how would you know exactly?" he asked sourly, his mood had significantly plummeted. "What's your name anyways?"

"Dunno, what's yours?" she responded with a shrug.

"Well then, Dunno, I'm Harry Potter, or didn't you know? Is my scar not visible? Sorry, I should really advertise better," he replied, his words seething with malicious sarcasm.

"What scar? Why should _I_ know _you_? And cut out the attitude if you don't mind," she countered with a frown as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"You know, Harry Potter… saviour of the wizarding race… defeated Lord Voldemort as of 1981… doesn't ring any bells? You've probably read about my freak outs in the Daily Prophet."

"Wow, you think a lot of yourself don't you?" she asked with a small smirk.

"Everyone thinks a lot of me, and I'm not being conceited; I wish it weren't true," he said with a sigh.

"That's fascinating," she said with impatience. "Can you tell me where I am? I'm getting a little freaked out over here." Her eyes flicked around the room with uneasiness.

"Wait a second, you said you didn't know what your name was, were you serious?" Harry asked, finally seeing her situation.

"Yes, I can't quite seem to remember what I did yesterday, or the day before that… well, you get the idea." she said, obviously upset.

"And, Madame Pomphrey couldn't see you either, right? Could she hear you?" She shook her head no, and stared at the floor, Harry didn't quite know what she was doing, her face was going red and her lips were pursed. "Are you okay?"

"Well, it's just that… I dunno… I mean…" His eyes widened as, with a sniff, he realised that the girl was crying. He had absolutely no idea how to comfort her, but the girl seemed to know what she wanted and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing on his shoulder. She had, in the throes of passion, hit her head against his chin. He would have a bruise tomorrow, he thought with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually so… _girly_… but I just feel really confused right now. I mean, what if you're the only one who can see me?"

"Yes I can see how a life of having only me for company would be terribly upsetting," he replied with a smile, trying to cheer her up a bit. He heard her laugh and then hiccup into his robes. "Listen, this will all work itself out—I promise. I'm sure stranger things have happened than this."

"You really think so? You're not just saying that to get the snotty nose off your robes?" she asked, looking up at him with red-rimmed, watery eyes.

"Well, not completely," he said with a smile. Her eyes were a very pretty shade of blue. Looking down into them made his stomach flip and he slowly released her. Avoiding her eyes in embarrassment, he spotted a box of tissues on a side table. He grabbed the box, backing away from her, and handed it over. She bit her lip and blew her nose on the procured tissue.

"Thanks," she said shyly, "what now?" Thinking back to his past experience with magic occurrences, Harry came up with an idea: Do exactly what Hermione would do.

"Well, first we'll go to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the school at which you are currently housed; then if that doesn't work, there's always the library."


	3. When Things Fly

In Time and Space

Chapter 3 – When Things Fly

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To my readers: Enjoy!

The idea of going to Dumbledore with his problem seemed to Harry like a good idea at the time, but standing in front of the stone gargoyle, pretending to think of the password, he had his doubts.

"_Even in the wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign."_

Could he do it? Could he tell Dumbledore that a girl that no one else could see or hear had popped out of the air with no recollection of her past? He could imagine what Professor Snape would say to him if he heard: "_How sweet, Potter's got an imaginary friend." _Actually, most of his teachers would say something along those lines, as they weren't exactly thrilled with him or his grades lately. He knew if no one would take him seriously he would need proof first. He turned to the girl and started: "Listen, I don't think that—"

"Potter! How convenient, the Headmaster and I were just discussing your marks." Harry had been so engrossed with his thoughts, he had not realised that Professor Snape had just exited the Headmaster's office. "I'll just escort you to him now, shall I?" he asked, grabbing hold of his arm, Professor Snape led Harry back up the opened staircase.

"This is good, right? I mean I'm sorry your marks are bad or whatever, but now you can tell him about me!" said the girl as she struggled to keep up with the Professor and his long stride, "You don't even need to know the password now!"

"Right," he replied under his breath, trying to come up with a way to tell her that they would not be discussing her.

"Quiet, Potter," Snape barked as he pushed his captive through the office door. "Look who I found loitering around your office entrance, Headmaster."

"Well, now, Mr. Potter, why don't you take a seat?" Harry could usually tell the Headmaster's mood from first glance, but his expression gave little away.

"Umm… thanks," Harry replied politely, moving to sit, but the girl purposely strode forward and plopped herself down first, "…I'll stand."

"Bloody, hell, Harry, learn some manners. Ladies first," she said carelessly.

"Would you like a lemon drop, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, holding out a candy dish. Harry was shocked to see the girl was reaching for one and discreetly slapped her hand away as he took a candy for himself.

"Thank you," Harry said to the Headmaster and popped the candy in his mouth, glaring at the girl. She in turn shrugged her shoulders not so elegantly, and motioned for him to speak to the Headmaster.

"Unfortunately, this is not a social visit Harry, the Professor and I were just discussing your marks and sufficed to say, they are less than satisfactory," the Headmaster said carefully.

"Pitiful in fact," Snape added dutifully.

"That will do, Severus. The point is Harry; you are not doing yourself any favours by goofing off, so to speak, at such a critical time in your school career. I believe Professor McGonagall mentioned you wanted to be an auror, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said ignoring the girl's attempt to get his attention.

"Harry! Tell them this is why you've been, like, pitifully failing! It's a good excuse!" she said breathlessly.

"I'm not pitifully failing!" he lied feverishly under his breath.

"That's the spirit Harry!" Dumbledore chimed. "You must whip your wand in shape if you wish to pass your NEWTs this year. Now, normally we would not be discussing this so early with students, but you have quite a heavy task on your shoulders, and I know that must be bothering you. So, I want you not to worry about the prophecy, as you must focus on your studies. That, Harry, is what is important right now."

"Yes, sir," Harry added with a sigh.

"Now, regarding your godfather, Harry. How are you dealing?" the Headmaster asked, placing his head on his adjoined hands and staring at Harry with sparkling blue eyes. Next to Harry sat a very angry female, staring at him intensely through fiery blue eyes. He could only guess as to what she was thinking.

She was, in fact, thinking about the situation – specifically, if this little prat thought he was getting away with conveniently forgetting about his promise, he had another thing coming.

"Well, I'm fine, sir," Harry answered, his eyes nervously glancing over to her, with an obvious gulp. "I think this talk has really helped me, sir," his eyes were pleading to her, she noticed, pleading for understanding. "If it would be at all possible, I'd like to go back to my common room now."

"Well, as long as you are sure, Harry," Dumbledore had noticed where Harry's eyes were, "But if you ever feel the need to talk, my office is always open." Harry nodded, and stood to leave. She mirrored his actions, and taking a step closer to the boy; she poked a finger menacingly through his chest.

"I don't think you quite understand the repercussions of this action, Harry. I think you should sit back down," she said between gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry I wasted your time, I won't do it again," Harry stated to the room, the hidden meaning very clear to her.

"That's perfectly fine, Harry, now you run along. I'm sure Ron and Hermione are waiting for you somewhere," the Headmaster said comfortingly.

"You will do no such thing, Mr. Harry Potter. If you take even one more step in the direction of that door… you will not like what will happen next," she threatened menacingly, wondering at the change that had occurred in this boy who had cradled her in his arms just a few minutes ago. But the boy continued to slowly move his feet backwards, wearily staring into the girl's viciously focussed eyes. She slowly moved herself towards a nearby shelf filled with many a delicate object, her hand outstretched. She raised an eyebrow, exploring just how determined he was to have his way. "You wouldn't dare."

"I'll just be going now," he repeated, testing the dangerous waters.

"You will not!" she shrieked with venom, quickly approaching her targeted shelf.

"Yup, just walking out the door now," he said, eyes fixed on the girl, his heart pounding.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, we are well aware of what leaving entails. Now the actual action is what we are interested in," Snape hissed from the back of the room. She had forgotten he was there.

"Yes, Professor, rightly so," Harry replied, while turning, very courageously away from her and facing the door. Fire pumped through her veins as the first precious item was carefully lifted and smashed to the ground. The mood of the entire room shifted as they saw the pieces on the floor.

"Oops, sorry Harry, my fingers slipped," she said innocently with a smile. "Oh no, here I go again!" She grabbed the next item off the shelf, "You'd better duck." Harry could only watch as the next item flew through the air and, right on target, hit Professor Snape right in the middle of his pasty forehead.


	4. Who Done It?

In Time and Space

Chapter 4 – Who Done It?

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: Enjoy!

_She did not just do that_, Harry thought, _I must have just had a hallucination or a stroke of some sort, because that did not just happen. _Right after being hit in the head with some sort of jumbo-sized Remembrall, the Potions Master had, rightly so, collapsed to the ground. The room pulsed with silence. The girl was still staring at Harry, this time with a small smile playing on her lips, while the Headmaster was half-sitting, half-standing with his chin lying on the floor. Harry had never seen the old man so out of sorts before.

"How are you going to explain this one away, Harry?" she said cockily, certain she had him in her talons.

"Professor, I can explain," Harry started to say to the Headmaster when he interrupted.

"Peeves! That was totally and completely uncalled for! Show yourself right now!" the Headmaster bellowed, he apparently thought he had figured out the situation. The girl seemed to know what this meant, and she uttered a small scream as she grabbed another object. Before she could cause any more damage however, Harry raced over and snatched it from her fingers. Glancing over Harry saw that the Headmaster was currently checking over the Potions Master.

"Put it down, I'll tell him as soon as I get proof that I'm not just hallucinating," he whispered to the girl with poorly hidden desperation.

"Well, why don't I just give him proof right now, Harry? I mean, he's bound to believe that there is a seemingly invisible person about when there are magical objects flying around his office! Either way I win, because if he doesn't believe you, he'll cart you off to the loony bin and I love a good loony catching," she countered with wrath.

"Alright, I understand that I'm at your mercy right now," he whispered with wounded defeat. "Now, would you please give me a chance to explain and get my story straight?"

"And what if I decide your story is something that I have a problem with? Hmm?" she asked, clearly not impressed with his plan.

"I'm sure you'll think of some way to make me reconsider," he said truthfully.

"Right you are Harry, let's go." Surprisingly enough, she calmly walked past the still unconscious Professor and out the door without a thought.

"Well, it looks like you have your hands full here, Headmaster. I'll just be going," he said to the flustered Headmaster who just waved him away.

Walking beside Harry down the cold halls of the school, the girl had a certain feeling of guilt. It most certainly was not his fault for wanting a normal life away from a sobbing, angry, mess of a person. And apparently he was currently having some emotional issues. She could understand his need for privacy and normality, but she didn't have much of a choice right now, as no one else could see or hear her. He was her only hope and he had deceived her.

"Um… are you hungry or something? 'Cause if we don't hurry, we'll miss dinner," Harry asked awkwardly, unaware of her physical state.

"No, I don't actually feel a need for anything, other than answers of course," she replied, hoping that this wouldn't get any more awkward, "but, you can eat and do whatever you normally do. If it's okay, may I tag along?"

"Sure, if you want to I mean," he stammered, momentarily puzzled about her change in mood. A few moments ago they were at each other's throats, right now it was very polite, but uncomfortable.

"Listen," she said, stopping to grab his arm and turn him to face her, "I'm sorry this had to happen, I mean, you obviously have a lot to deal with, and my being here can't help the situation much… but it would be really helpful if you could help me find out what's going on. I mean, the sooner we figure this out, the sooner I go, right?"

"I know. I still stand behind what I said before—I'll help you, but I just don't want to be labelled as a psychopath at the same time," he joked, thankful that the tension had been relieved.

"Thanks," she added simply.

"You're welcome," he answered. "So, off to dinner, then? You'll get to semi-meet my friends, Ron and Hermione. They might help us."

"Are you sure that they'll take you seriously?" she asked cautiously.

"Oh, yeah, we've gone through everything together, they'll know I'm telling the truth."

"So, what you're telling us is that there is a girl, who doesn't remember anything about herself, sitting right there beside you?" Ron asked with wide and disbelieving eyes, his full fork forgotten halfway to his mouth. He risked a glance at Hermione, to see her reaction, and she looked rather serious for the situation.

"Yes, I found her on the floor in the Hospital Wing this morning after the game. She was unconscious," Harry replied, looking a little nervous.

"So why can't we see her then, Harry?" he asked, wondering when Hermione would join the conversation.

"Well, I don't actually know, but it's okay, because no one else can see her either," he replied reassuringly, but Ron wasn't reassured. This was too weird; did his sixteen-year-old best mate have an imaginary friend?

"Harry, why are you telling us this?" Hermione asked finally. Harry seemed to listen be distracted, as if listening to something inaudible.

He replied with a shaky smile: "Hah… I got you, it was just a joke!" But Ron and Hermione didn't believe him, "I… umm… thought that a little humour might help after loosing the game, you know? Crazy old Harry has lost his marbles! Not only is he blind and can't catch the snitch, but now he's seeing strange people!"

"Hah! Right, well don't think too much on it, mate. It was just one game, besides, we were loosing way before Malfoy caught the snitch," Ron replied with renewed energy, continuing on with his dinner, but Hermione was not appeased.

"Are you sure you're okay, Harry? I know that we haven't really talked about what happened last year—"

"I'm fine, Hermione. Can we just drop it, please? I really don't want to talk about it," he replied hotly, "I think I'm going to go do my homework, I've lost my appetite."

"But Harry—" Ron said, but it was too late, he was already stalking off angrily.

"I don't know, Ron, I think we should talk to Professor McGonagall. I think Harry's under a lot of stress and that can be really bad for you. He could be using this invisible person thing as a cry for help."

"Well, look on the bright side, Hermione. At least now he's doing his homework."


	5. No More Mr Nice Guy

In Time and Space

Chapter 5 – No More Mr. Nice Guy

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: I just wrote a pretty nasty chapter and I'm feeling pretty sorry for you guys when you have to read it, also, this chapter is a lot shorter than all the others, so I'll give you two at once, how's that? Hope you like it even though it's so incredibly short. And sorry in advance for the chapter I just wrote, lol.

Harry stormed out of the Great Hall, slamming the doors behind him as he went. He heard the soft footfalls of his female companion behind him and breathed a frustrated sigh. He did not want to talk to her of all people right now, but his temper would not subside. "You know I could have convinced them," he called out, " I just had to explain the situation in full."

"That's what you keep saying, Harry. But I really don't think that they were about to pull their heads around the idea any time soon," she replied from right beside him.

"Whatever," he said testily.

"So," she said after long pause, "Where to now?"

"My dormitory, for bed—where you're not allowed to go," Harry replied as he approached the Fat Lady. "Socks."

"Excuse me?" she questioned, cuing into the last statement.

"That's the password, for the Gryffindor common rooms, only Gryffindors are allowed in here," he answered, climbing through the passageway.

"Not like I can invite anyone in anyways," she said, not getting the hint. "Now what could I do while you sleep?"

"What? You don't sleep?" he asked, stopping to turn around and face the girl.

"Nope, at least I don't think so. I don't feel anything at all. It's a little weird actually. It's like my body is stuffed with cotton balls. I feel… very still. Kind of inanimate, actually."

"Whatever, I didn't ask for your life story," he said, annoyed once again. He turned from her and started up the stairs to the boy's sixth year dormitory.

"Again, not like I could give you one, Mr. Crabby," she said, following him.

"Hey!" he replied, stopping and turning to face her, "I told you; you are not allowed up here!"

"Well, where am I supposed to go? I have like ten hours to kill all by myself!" she said angrily.

"Do I look like I care?" he shouted, storming up to his rooms and slamming the door behind him. He lied down on his bed and shut the bed hangings. He was finally starting to relax as he drank in the quiet.

Suddenly, she stalked into the room and ripped apart his curtains as she screamed. "Listen! You are an annoying, snarky, nasty, little boy. But, you _will_ help me. Or else I'll—"

"What? What will you do?" he interrupted fiercely. "Because right now I don't really give a damn about any of your heartbreaking problems! I have problems of my own, you know! And my life really sucks right now!"

"Well at least you have a life—which you are completely screwing up, by the way!" she countered.

"What is _that _supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, never mind. Can we just forget about this and relax a little, please? I promise, you do this one thing for me, and I'll be out of your hair forever. Please, Harry. Please just help me?" she asked, her temper cooling down.

"No! You know what? I'm sick of doing everything for everyone else! And I won't do it again! No, you can just go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone!" he bellowed. "I've got enough on my plate as it is."

"But Harry—"

"Get out!" he screamed, grabbing hold of her and forcefully throwing her from the room. He smashed the door closed behind him and threw himself face-first onto his bed. His scar was prickling fiercely but he didn't bother to even try clearing his mind. He still took Occlumency once a week, but he had not quite picked up the art yet.

He groaned into his pillow, thinking about how hard his life had become. Everything seemed to have fallen apart after Sirius died. All of a sudden the war had become so real. There were Death Eater sightings in the Daily Prophet almost every day now. Lord Voldemort had claimed more and more lives and Harry was feeling very distraught. His task had become so huge, so fast. Hearing the door slowly squeak open, Harry reached below his bed and grasped one of his sneakers. Turning on his back; he whipped the shoe at the door and bellowed: "Get the bloody hell out of here, woman! I wasn't joking you know!"

Swearing, Ron caught the shoe in a remarkable display of talent and kicked the door fully open. "Merlin's balls, Harry. What are you going on about?" he asked sourly.

"Oh, it's just you," Harry replied, rolling back onto his stomach, "Sorry."

"Right," Ron tossed the offending sneaker onto the floor and sat down beside Harry. He cleared his throat clumsily and awkwardly tried to smooth the wrinkles on his trousers. "Hermione seems to think that you are suffering from some kind of stress disorder, Harry." Harry responded with a snort. "As usual I find the idea preposterous, but," he cleared his throat again, "if you ever, you know… need… stuff… well I'm here for you Harry."

"Noted," Harry said moodily as he turned on his side and presented his back to his friend; signalling the end to the conversation.

"Right," Ron said as he got up and prepared for bed. "Right."


	6. Redemption

In Time and Space

Chapter 6 – Redemption

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: I guess you could call this a filler chapter, I just really felt the need to make Harry and the girl's pairing a little difficult, hence the fight last chapter. Obviously, they couldn't be enemies forever and I just thought that the girl having some kind of help would send her into a happy mood, so here it is... don't know if I like this chapter that much, but what are you gonna do? You've already gotten two chapters out of me at one time, so I don't think you're allowed to complain, lol.

Harry was worried, it had been three days since he had thrown the nameless girl out of his room. Since then he had tried to get back into the studying mood, but his curiosity over his lost friend had evaporated any fervour that the Headmaster's speech had instilled within him. Harry had just come from an Occlumency lesson and he was nursing a splitting headache. He checked his watch and realised it was almost ten o'clock. He had a Transfiguration essay due tomorrow and had to get some books from the library before it closed. Turning around in his tracks, Harry headed off to the library.

Usually, the library was packed with students busily trying to finish overdue homework. The Ravenclaws could be seen with the Hufflepuffs, trying in vain to tutor the hopeless semi-students. But now, just a few minutes to closing, there was only one occupant. The person who had been in the back of his mind all day was currently sitting at a small table hunched over an exceptionally large tome. The girl's eyes were dancing across the pages and it looked as though she had been right there for the past three days.

Forgetting about his essay, he shuffled over to her without a thought. Guilt burned at his stomach as he stood over the still oblivious girl. He didn't quite know how to start; he knew he had been in the wrong. Making up his mind, he sat down next to her. Her head snapped up in attention, startled to meet eyes staring directly back at her. As she realised who the eyes belonged to, she shifted over a little to the side.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked, hoping that they could just ignore his previous temper tantrum.

"Umm... lets see, how did you put it? I'm 'going back to where I came from,'" she replied with a temper.

"You came from the library?" he joked pointedly. Hiding a smile, the girl replied with a smack to Harry's arm.

"Shut up! I'm mad and you're a big fat…"

"Jerk?" he finished hoping to find an opening for apology.

"Yes, a jerk! And a prat and a moron—"

"Yes, and I'm sorry for it. I was wrong, you were right, and I want to help," Harry said with sincerity.

"Why?" she questioned, still unsure.

"To get out of doing my homework of course!" he joked, hoping to break the seriousness that seemed to envelope his life. "Plus I'm hoping to get a little nookie."

"Harry! Ewww!" she screeched. The sheer outrageousness of the statement had finally broken the tension.

"Come on, I was kidding…unless?" he responded, waggling his eyebrows.

"Get out of here, you perve!" she replied with a smile, ruffling his hair in affection. "You'd get more action from Trevor!"

"Oy, how'd you know about him? Did Neville lose him again?" Harry asked with sincere interest, "And where have you been, I might add?"

"Oh, just around. But I've mostly been here," she gestured to the library, "When I'm not eavesdropping, that is."

"Of course," he added with a smile, suddenly realising how much he had missed normal conversation.

"Seriously though," she gave him a hard look and he just smiled in return, "I've been reading about, well… basically everything. I had no idea where to start so I just picked one book off every bookshelf and started reading."

"And no one saw you?" he asked with concern.

"Well, apart from the 'duh' of that statement, no. I snuck in when it was closed for the night," she replied with a roll of her eyes.

"Right, well, you should be careful what you do," he said.

"Why? What's the point of being careful if I _want _to be discovered?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know, maybe someone might mistake you for a demon and exorcize you," he said, grasping for straws. The idea of his little secret becoming public knowledge was a little disconcerting at the moment.

"You're weird," she stated, staring at him with a frown.

"Well, you don't have to be in the library to know that!" he joked and pulled her up by the arm. "Let's get out of here, it's almost closing."

"Where are we going?" she asked as she was dragged out of the library and out into the chilly hallway. Her legs protested at the sudden exercise and she pulled at her arm in objection, "Geroff!" Harry let go and she pinched him on the arm as punishment for being manhandled.

"Ouch, no need to get physical!" he replied and rubbed his arm. Feeling very silly at the moment, she giggled and poked him in the ribs. "Cut it out!" She laughed and trotted regally down the corridor.

"Let's retire, I do believe I am bored of these childish antics," she said in a posh accent.

"But now I'm all excited for research," Harry whined, following slowly in her path and turning her around when she tried to walk down the teacher's corridor. Suddenly Harry snapped back into reality and realised that he was out past curfew without having done any work on his essay.

"Nah, I—" she started again before a hand was enclosed over her mouth, then retracted as the owner realised the uselessness of the action. But, he kept a tight hold of her as he steered her towards the Gryffindor tower.

He hurried his steps and hissed in her ear: "Quiet! I could get in trouble!"

She in return shrieked loudly and pronounced: "That tickled!" Harry shushed her again and they finally made it to the Fat Lady.

"Socks!" he cried, holding a stitch in his side and releasing his captive. They both scurried through and Harry threw himself onto his favourite chair with a sigh. Looking around, Harry saw they were alone, Ron and Hermione had not waited up for him and he was not surprised. Harry stifled a yawn for politeness and regarded his company. She looked exactly the way she was when he first saw her. Although her hair was slightly messed from his hold, there was not the slightest difference. She was not flushed, she had no spots, and nothing was different about her body. He felt slightly put off by this fact, but an idea trickled into his head. "Maybe you're a ghost."

"A ghost?" she said, pondering the idea herself. "Maybe."

"We can talk, I mean, I'll… well, we'll go see Sir Nicholas, my house ghost, first thing in the morning… or after classes," he said, momentarily forgetting he had other obligations tomorrow.

"And until then what?" she asked uncomfortably.

"I'll sleep and you can raid the castle until the wee hours of the morning when you can sit with me for breakfast… if you want," Harry said with a smile.

"That sounds just lovely, Harry."


	7. A Ghostly Truth

In Time and Space

Chapter 7 – A Ghostly Truth

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: This chapter is a little melodramatic, I guess it must have been _that _time of the month when I wrote it ; )

Harry awoke with a smile that morning.

After saying goodnight to the girl the night before, he had gone up to his dormitory to find his mates asleep, all except for Ron. He was sitting on his bed, reading a book on Quidditch.

"Well, I was preparing myself for a moody mate and an argument. Don't tell me I'll be let down," Ron looked at him in surprise, taking in his large grin and his cheery mood.

"Sorry, no can do. I've had a pleasant evening," Harry replied as he changed into his pyjamas.

"Oh yeah? Did you finish that essay McGonagall set? Because I wouldn't mind looking it over," Ron replied, looking hopefully at Harry.

"Ah, yeah, about that… not exactly _finished _it," Harry said with a grimace. "I kind of got distracted by other things…"

"What other things?" Ron asked, completely oblivious to the boyish tone of Harry's words.

"Forget it, I'll tell you later," Harry said, getting under his covers and magicing the lights out.

"Alright then, goodnight."

Harry had slept quite well after his encounter and he was relieved to find himself invigorated. Checking his watch on his nightstand, Harry realised that it was early, too early for Ron to be awake, but early enough to have some time with the girl before breakfast. Rushing down the stairs to the common room, Harry stopped abruptly as he saw the figure sitting in his favourite chair.

"Have you been there all night?" he asked, coming to sit in the chair opposite her.

"No, I went looking around for a while, then I came back. It's homey here, I like it," she replied, staring pensively into the dying embers of the fire.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I guess, I'm just wondering who I could have been," she replied, her eyes not meeting his face.

"Who you _are_," Harry emphasized and her eyes came to rest on his; happiness blossomed on her face.

"Thanks, Harry. For everything, I mean it," she replied.

"Hey, no problem, I told you. Let's just focus on finding out what's going on," he responded.

"Right," she smiled, "So, are we off to see Sir Nicholas?"

"Oh, right, well, I don't exactly know where to find him, but we can try the teachers' lounge."

Several minutes later Harry and the girl were standing outside the teachers' lounge, waiting for their knock to be answered. Harry checked his watch and saw that it was about seven thirty. Perhaps no teachers were in the lounge this early. But, just as he was about to turn to speak with his companion, the door opened. Professor Flitwick suddenly appeared, apparently frightening the girl who gasped and jumped back in surprise.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said. "We were just wondering if you knew where Sir Nicholas was."

"We?" squeaked the tiny Professor in confusion.

"I mean, I was, sir. Just me," Harry stammered.

"Well then, Mr. Potter, may I ask why you require Sir Nicholas' attentions?" the Professor asked.

"I umm… need him to… help me with…" Harry realised at this point that a story would have been useful, "Well… you know… he said that… I could visit him Professor, just for social reasons."

"Right, well in that case, Sir Nicholas usually spends his free time in the portrait hall," he answered.

"The portrait hall, Sir? I've never heard of it."

"Yes, I believe we could spend a lifetime in this castle and never know all its special secrets," Professor Flitwick replied with an indulgent smile and a shuffled of his little feet. "It should be on the first floor just down the corridor from your History of Magic classroom."

"Right. Well thank you, Professor," Harry said.

"Good day, Mr. Potter." Harry turned around and led the girl down to his History of Magic classroom. Continuing past the room, the two teenagers stepped into what seemed like a completely different area. Harry was suddenly met with a blast of noise that must have been kept in by a charm of some sort. He felt as though he had stepped into Diagon Alley by mistake. All around him he could hear pieces of conversation. He looked to his side and realised that the noise was coming from the talking portraits. Every inch of the walls was covered in portraits, except for the dusty ceiling, which held a solitary chandelier. Walking slowly as to take in every detail, he regarded all the people in their frames. A beautiful woman sat knitting in a comfy chair, softly discussing her technique with the Spanish dancer across from her.

Further down the way, there was a monk of some kind who was writing on a scroll. Next to him there was a little girl about seven years old picking flowers in a field. Harry stopped in front of this portrait and he looked at the caption card beside it. _Hazel Marie Dolfus Dumbledore._

"Hey, look at this," Harry called to the girl.

"What about it?" she asked, coming to stand next to him.

"Dumbledore is the name of my Headmaster, remember? This must be his daughter or something."

"What's the date?" she asked.

Looking at the card, Harry replied, "1822."

"Wow, how old is he?" she asked.

"I dunno, apparently he's around 150, this must have been his mother or something," Harry responded with a frown.

"Hmm… cool, she kept her name after she married," the girl said as she turned to inspect another painting.

"That is if she got married at all," Harry pointed out.

"Oh… Headmaster scandal!" she laughed and continued down the corridor.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry, replied with a smile and followed the girl. Turning the corner, Harry saw the pearly form of his house ghost, Sir Nicholas. The ghost was slowly bobbing in front of a portrait. His eyes were fixed on the painting, and his expression was painful. Harry felt awkward and out of place in the midst of the ghost's obvious suffering. "Sir, Nicholas?" Harry called, giving the ghost some time to pull himself together.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing here?" the ghost asked with a start.

"I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about… umm… well, death, sir," Harry asked uncomfortably, remembering all of his experiences with Moaning Myrtle.

"We've already had this conversation, Mr. Potter, I'm sorry for your lose, but you have got to let it go. Your friend is never coming back," Sir Nicholas said with renewed dignity, he felt he had understood Harry's intentions. Wincing slightly at the heavy reminder, Harry continued.

"No, sir, I was wondering about types of ghosts."

"Types, Mr. Potter? There are no types, you either are a ghost or you are not," Sir Nicholas corrected crossly.

"So, you're saying that a ghost couldn't, say, be visible to only one person?" Harry questioned, falsely innocent.

"No, Mr. Potter. I've never heard of a ghost who has that particular talent. Now, is that the end of your interrogation?" he replied, moving to leave.

"No! Wait! Ask him what he sees when he walks through people!" the girl said desperately.

"Sir Nicholas, what do you see when you go through people?" Harry asked, unsure as to where this was going. The ghost stopped in his tracks and stared at the floor. Harry walked around to face him and questioned softly, "Sir, Nicholas?"

"Their memories, Mr. Potter. Ghosts are privy to other people's lives. If they don't have their own, at least they can invade others', I guess," he said softly. "Goodbye Mr. Potter." And with that, Sir Nicholas floated through the wall and out of sight.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked his companion as they made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"You know when you found me lying on the floor of the Hospital Wing?" she started, and continued at his nod. "Well I had just kind of walked through the woman working there and I saw… things… images of her life. At least I think it was her."

"So, we must be on the right track then… you could be an apparition or a phantom or spectre or something," Harry suggested.

"But Sir Nicholas said there weren't types of ghosts, just ghosts like him."

"Right…but I don't think we're dealing with a normal type of magic here… otherwise this would be in books. And you haven't found anything like that," he said thoughtfully.

"Well I haven't exactly checked all the books in the library, Harry. That would take about a lifetime," she said with a shake of her head.

"Well, until then, we have to check all the books we can," Harry said as he stopped outside the Great Hall and turned towards the girl.

"Right, will do. Thanks Harry," she smiled as she headed towards the library.


	8. Blood and Tears

In Time and Space

Chapter 8 – Blood and Tears

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks for this one especially, you know what I mean! ;) To the readers: Enjoy!

_The girl stared at the closed door, tears streaming down her face. She shushed the tiny boy in her arms as he let out a small whimper. She could hear footsteps outside the door. Screams filled the air suddenly, as the sound of a door splintering filled her ears. She closed her eyes and squeezed the boy as close to herself as possible. She pressed her face down into the boy's brown curls and sobbed. The screams were getting closer now and she could make out flashes of green and red lights from under the crack of the door. A tall girl sitting behind her, squeezed tightly in the small space between the dresser and the girl's bed, rocked back and forth; her eyes silently flooding with tears as she stared at the door. Children sat around the room, huddled together, all waiting to be killed by the invading men that had broken down the orphanage door in the middle of the night. But that was not what had woken the children up; it was the sounds of the nun's tortured screams cutting through the air that woke them. The girl had no idea what could cause such screams; she had never heard anything so terrible in her whole life. What was happening?_

_Suddenly, the door to the bedroom crashed open, tearing down the centre. Wooden splinters filled the air and someone screamed. The girl looked up to see a tall, cloaked figure in a white mask covering its face. It pointed a long stick at the group of children as dozens more just like it filled the room. Then pain, the worst pain she had ever felt, filled her body, forcing the air from her lungs and sucking the life out of her body. All she could do was scream…_

She jerked her head up as she struggled to catch her breath. Had she screamed aloud? She pressed her hands against her face and felt cold sweat clinging to the skin. Had she fallen asleep? Was that even possible? Looking around, she realised she was in the middle of the library at Hogwarts. She looked down to read over the page on which she had just fallen asleep.

_Ghosts are the essences of the magical who, when deceased,_

_choose to wander the place in the mortal world where_

_they have previously vacated in their lifetime. Ghosts_

_are normally sociable to humans and have, throughout_

_history, integrated themselves within magical society._

With a sigh, the girl shut the large tome. She had yet to find anything worthwhile among the piles of books she had searched through. Glancing around, she realised that Harry must not be out of class yet. She buckled slightly as she stood; a sharp stab of pain was throbbing just above her left temple. Another headache… what was happening to her? Just yesterday she had felt as inanimate as the desk in front of her. Now she was falling asleep, sweating, and getting headaches. She shook off the feeling of dread as she made her way out of the library.

Standing in the hall outside, she looked around, realising she had no idea where to find Harry, as she had no clue which class he was currently in. She had decided to wait in the Great Hall to catch Harry at tea when she heard a wheezy, droning voice coming through a door to her left.

"… Seers have the talent of being able to, in very vague terms, see the future. Many Seers have been celebrated throughout magical history. One in particular is Mopsus, the son of Apollo and Manto who was the Seer for the Argonauts or the 'Minyans,' the heroes who sailed with Jason in the quest for the Golden Fleece. Mopsus is also known for defeating Seer Calchas. There was also the Seer Cassandra, daughter of the King and Queen of Troy, who was given the power of Sight by Apollo who wished to seduce her. Cassandra rejected Apollo's advances and was punished by being stripped of her abilities of persuasion. Because of this, all of Cassandra's warnings during the Trojan War went unnoticed and her parents' kingdom fell. Two more Cassandra Seers are Cassandra Vablatsky; author of Unfogging the Future, and Cassandra Trelawney, great-great-grandmother of Professor Trelawney, also quite a gifted Seer…"

Stepping into the doorway of the classroom, the girl looked around and took in the drowsy atmosphere. A ghostly figure floated at the front of the class and spoke from a stack of notes lying on his podium. The class seemed to be oblivious to the figure's monotone speech, as all were wrestling with stupors, save for one bushy-haired individual who was writing feverously on a sheaf of parchment. Looking further still, the girl spotted her target and silently rejoiced at her luck.

Weaving through the aisles of desks, she came to a spot over the black-haired boy and poked him hard in the shoulder. With a jerk, the boy sat up and his eyes rested instantly on her.

"What?" Harry whispered, looking around worriedly at the few students who were staring at his sudden movement.

"I need to talk to you; it's urgent," she said, fiddling with the fringe on her pyjamas. Harry took a piece of parchment out and wrote in scrawling letters: _Can't it wait?_

"No, tell him you need to go to the bathroom or something," she replied, a hint of panic in her voice. Rolling his eyes, Harry put his arm in the air, stopping his professor mid-sentence.

"Yes, Mr. Poltier?" said the professor, taken aback by the sudden interruption.

"Bathroom, sir, it's urgent," Harry said, going red as several girls giggled.

"Right, off you go," the ghost said, missing the telltale sign of Harry picking his bag up to go. "Some Seers also have the remarkable ability to explore the mortal and immortal worlds alike with their minds, leaving their physical bodies behind and making them able to explore all aspects of time and space. Thus giving them the ability to see things that have yet to come…"

Once in the corridor, the girl recalled the vision, describing the scene in detail while slowly massaging her still-throbbing temple.

"Do you think that what you saw was real?" Harry asked, sitting himself down on the floor in a fairly secluded spot.

"I don't know! That's what's so frustrating! It could be happening right this very second!" she said, pressing her fingers into her face.

"But you said that it was night time, right?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yes, but it could have been anywhere—"

"Anywhere that speaks English, I mean you understood what they were saying, right?" he said.

"I guess, but the other option is that it didn't even happen, that I'm just dreaming… but I can't even dream! Or maybe I can… I have no idea. But what I do know is that there is a possibility that this could be happening right now and that a whole orphanage of children are being murdered and we have a chance to save them!" Harry looked her over; a pink flush on her cheeks, tears of desperation welling in her eyes. She seemed to be getting more human by the second. Suddenly, as if another picture of her had been superimposed onto her in his mind, he saw her pale as death, fierce red welts crying crimson blood on her face, still staring at him with her desperate eyes. He blinked and the image was gone.

"Alright, I can tell Dumbledore what you saw, but as if I saw it. It's not the first time I've had visions. I just hope he'll buy it," he said, trying to shake off the image of her battered face. With a smile she threw herself into his arms, crushing him in her embrace.

"Thank you, Harry." He couldn't help but to take in the scent of her hair as her tears poured on his shoulder.


	9. When the Sun Goes Down

In Time and Space

Chapter 9 – When the Sun Goes Down

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: Enjoy!

Sitting in professor Dumbledore's office, looking into his concerned, sparkling, blue eyes, Harry recounted the girl's vision, masquerading it as his own. The girl sat beside him, staring at her hands.

"And you dreamt this from the children's perspective?" Dumbledore questioned softly, while choosing a large lemon drop from a candy dish on his desk.

"Umm… no, from a third person's view," Harry said, echoing the girl's response.

"Interesting… and this was when?" Dumbledore asked.

"I was sleeping, during History of Magic, sir, I dreamt it," Harry said casually, his professor had not cared in the past of his poor academic habits. Harry was taken aback by the frown that blossomed on his bearded face. "Sorry, sir…"

"It's not me you should be apologizing to, Harry. You know this. I had hoped that our little discussion last week would have opened your eyes to the damage that you are inflicting upon your future. With regards to your marks, the staff has told me that you have shown no improvement whatsoever. They say that if anything your marks have decreased," he paused here and gave Harry a hard stare. "I have also heard from Miss Granger that you have been telling people about an imaginary person—"

"She's not imaginary!" Harry burst out before he could stop himself. He looked with wide eyes over to his companion and saw her sitting up straight staring right back at him. Looking back at the professor, he realised with horror that he had noticed his glance over to the girl. Now looking sternly at the seemingly empty chair and the teenager in front of him, professor Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard.

"Don't tell him anything else, Harry, I'm sorry I-" the girl started.

"What has happened here, Harry? A Jade stone is useless before it is processed; a man is good-for-nothing until he is educated. But perhaps we have already allowed you to be processed by your life's experiences."

"Sir, I don't understand," Harry said truthfully. He watched as the professor got to his feet and looked out his window, the sun shone at an afternoon angle and pierced through the delicate glass. Harry looked away from the burning of the light and glanced over to the girl. She was again staring at her hands, while she absently massaged her temple. She looked pale again… the sun did nothing to brighten up her gossamer skin. Furrowing his brow slightly, the boy looked closer at the figure. Should the light not glow upon contact of her porcelain skin?

"I want you to take some time off from classes, Harry," Harry's gaze swung around to rest on the professor. He realised with a shock that Dumbledore had been looking at him. "And maybe quit your position of Quidditch captain. Spend some time in the infirmary, as to not arouse suspicion."

"But, sir. I—" Harry started to protest, but was cut off by the professor.

"Harry, I believe this to be necessary. After all, the longer the night lasts, the more our dreams will be," the professor sat back down in his seat behind his desk and laid his head on his intertwined fingers. "Right now, however, I think you should go back to your common room and have a nice long conversation with young Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. They will be expecting you. I daresay they have missed your company quite a bit. Then, I want you to go to the infirmary. If you're not there by curfew I will have her come and get you. And I hope, for your sake, that you will not have to experience the wrath of Madame Pomphrey."

"But my vision, sir, what about the or—"

"Harry," Dumbledore started with sad eyes. "To be perfectly frank, it is unlikely that what you saw really happened. You are under a lot of stress and grief, and I think that this must have been an ordinary dream. Or maybe a cry for help."

"But it wasn't actually—"

"Harry," the professor stopped him with a raise of his hand. "This dream of yours could not have been reality. You have never shown the ability to see things like that scene in the orphanage. Your visions have always followed Lord Voldemort's mind, as your scar provided you two with a connection. Now, as you have told me you have felt nothing of consequence from your scar since the Department of Mysteries attack, I assume that Voldemort closed the link for his protection. Harry, there was no way you could have seen an attack in progress." Professor Dumbledore stood and gestured to the door. "Now, I think it's time you go see your friends. Relax, Harry. Everything will be taken care of. A good fortune may forebode a bad luck, which may in turn disguise a good fortune."

"Let's go, Harry," the girl said as she stood and took his hand gently in her own. Harry looked at her and sighed. Together they made their way up to the Gryffindor common room on the seventh floor, pausing only to give the password to the Fat Lady. Harry didn't know what to think, Dumbledore had swept the feet right out under him with his insinuations. Was the girl just a figment of his imagination? He tried to think back to the time when they had met. He remembered feeling bad about loosing the Quidditch game and not much else. He had been lonely that day, playing with the team had only increased his feelings of loneliness and lose. It seemed like ages ago that he had played that match. Had it only been a week? He realised with a start that he was different now; some of the pain seemed to have lifted from him.

Looking over at the girl now sitting in the plush chair beside him in the abandoned common room, Harry wondered why, if she had been imagined simply for company, she was still here now when he was obviously less depressed than before. The girl turned to meet his eyes and he could see the thoughts turning behind her blue eyes. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were seated and how delicate her lips looked. Without even knowing it, Harry had leaned forward slightly and she had come to meet him halfway.

Her lips were smooth and soft against his and he reached his hand up to caress the silky skin under her jaw. Breathing in through his nose, he took in the scent of her hair. She moved her lips slowly against his and the sensation rippled down to his toes and tingled pleasantly. Feeling an urgent need inside him, Harry pressed down harder on her lips and tried to angle his head a little to the right. Bumping noses suddenly and painfully, the two broke apart, rubbing their noses and looking awkwardly anywhere but at each other. Harry sat back in his chair and stared at the wood lying unlit in the hearth. He was painfully aware of the heat rushing up to his face and the dampness in his palms.

"I'm real, Harry. Don't doubt that, okay?" looking over at the girl, he realised that she was smiling. "We're in this together, right? No matter what happens we have to trust each other."

"Right, absolutely," Harry smiled back and, after wiping his hand hastily on his trousers, grabbed her hand in his.


	10. Lose of Gain

In Time and Space

Chapter 10 – Lose of Gain

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: Enjoy!

Harry and the girl were still holding hands when Hermione and Ron walked into the common room later that evening. He was aware of how awkward his arm looked when it was sprawled out between the two chairs, but at this moment he didn't care. The gesture of a constant physical contact between him and the girl seemed to give him courage and he couldn't help but smile at his girlfriend beside him.

"Harry…" Ron started slowly, taking in the image in front of him. "What are you doing?"

"Ron, Hermione, can you guys sit down please, we need to talk," Harry said, getting up and standing nearer to the empty fireplace. The cold breeze coming through made his arm goose-pimple. "Don't worry, we're not breaking up," he said with a laugh as turned to face his friends.

"Yes, I think—" Hermione started.

"No, Ron, that chair's taken," Harry said quickly as Ron went to sit on his girlfriend. _When had she become his girlfriend? _He thought momentarily, missing the actions of his friends as Ron halted but glanced quickly to Hermione who seemed to shrink with discouragement.

"Harry," she started then stopped, taking in a deep breath and continued. "Ron and I both know how hard it has been for you this year and over the summer, what with loosing your godfather and all; but this is not quite the way we had hoped you'd deal with it."

"You see, we had hoped that you would talk to us, not some imaginary mate you cooked up," Ron said with an unsurprising lack of sensitivity.

"Firstly, one thing you two need to understand is that she's not imaginary, okay? She's sitting right there in that chair. Secondly, this is not because of Sirius—"

"Really, Harry? Can you say with absolute certainty that this has nothing to do whatsoever with Sirius?" Hermione asked, moving forward to sit on the edge of her chair as she stared at Harry. Harry turned around slowly and realised with a start that there was a fire burning in the hearth. The heat fell on his face and he closed his eyes against it. Was he really sure? He had been debating the issue for sometime now. But how could he ever know for sure?

A hand pressed against his back and Harry turned to meet the blue eyes of the girl. With slow and deliberate movements, the girl turned and picked up a fourth year transfiguration textbook and pressed it into his hands. Furrowing his brow Harry had only moments to wonder at her actions until he met the wide eyes of his friends.

"How did you…" Ron asked, unable to comprehend the situation.

"I didn't; she did," he returned the book back in its place and continued. "You guys just need to trust me. Have I ever lied to you before?"

"Harry," the girl pressed. "You need to be going to the hospital wing, don't forget."

"I know. Just wait," he replied quickly, Harry hoped that they would finally believe him. "I need you two to do me a favour. I'm going to be staying at the hospital wing for a while, as per Dumbledore's orders. But I need you guys to bring me the Prophet everyday, okay? And keep your ears open for any news of Death Eaters attacking orphanages. Okay?"

"Sure Harry, I think this will be good for you. A nice relaxing stay in the Hospital Wing and some time to reflect," Hermione said calmly, though her eyes revealed her confusion.

"Right, mate, don't worry. We'll take care of everything," Ron said.

As soon as Harry arrived at the Hospital Wing, with the girl in tow, Madame Pomphrey ambushed him. She handed him a calming drought, a pair of pyjamas not unlike the girl's, and shoved him into bed. Now, Harry lay in bed dreamily staring at the ceiling with a dreamy smile on his face. The girl sat on the edge of the bed, trying to keep her giggles from spilling out.

"Funny how just one trip to the hospital can completely change your mood," she said to Harry, grinning slightly.

"Yeeeessssss, riiiight," Harry said, dragging out the words with long breaths.

"Seriously though, Harry. How exactly are we going to figure out the mystery of my life, or lack there of, when you've seemingly lost your marbles?" she asked with real concern.

"Hah! Marbles! You're funny!" Harry said as he rolled over on his side and fell promptly asleep. Drool dribbled slowly onto Harry's pillow as the girl sat and thought the situation over. Whichever way she spun the situation, the end result was still the same: he would be absolutely no help to her. As dire as her current position was, the girl couldn't help but smile. As gross as the spit stream was, Harry was too cute when he was passed out. She quietly reached out and took off his glasses, placing them on his bedside table and reached forward to brush his unruly hair off his face.

_Harry screamed out a word she couldn't distinguish as dozens of robed figures ran out to grab his arms and his legs. He kicked out as hard as he could to fight them off, but they had already lifted him bodily off the ground. The darkness was closing in on her as she sunk lower and lower. Noises were getting foggy and harder to pick out as darkness seeped into the edges of her vision. The last thing she heard was a series of loud "pops" before the darkness tore her away from her being._

Jerking her hand back suddenly, she came back to consciousness with a gasp. For the second time that day, she had the feeling of cold, clammy sensations weaving down her back. The tips of her fingers tingled and she shiveredin distress. Cold sweat hugged her skin as her hands swept across her flushed face. She looked up to see Madame Pomphrey tucking Harry's blankets up under his chin and she rose quickly and ran from the room.


	11. Examinations

In Time and Space

Chapter 11 - Examinations

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: Enjoy!

Harry woke the next morning with a smile on his face. Pressing his feet down into his comforter he sighed in satisfaction. Somehow a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he felt good about the day. He took his time in opening his eyes; once he did he looked around and remembered he was in the hospital wing. He had no homework, no classes, and no worries. Frowning slightly, he realised he did have one worry: the girl. Quietly, as to not alert anyone of his wakening, he slipped from his bed and started across the room, heading for the door.

"Not so fast, Mr. Potter, you're on strict orders to stay in bed and relax," Madame Pomphrey announced as she seemingly came out of nowhere and pulled Harry back to his warm bed.

"But there's nothing wrong with me!" he said, drowsily, the effects of the potion still with him.

"Best you let me be the nurse here, Potter," she replied tersely, attempting to shove more potions down his throat.

"Please, no more 'calming droughts,'" he said with suspicion. "I'd like to keep my wits about me, if you don't mind. Those things knock me out completely."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but I'm on strict orders," she replied, handing him a goblet filled with a sweet smelling concoction. Harry eyed it wearily but drank it down. Suspicion made way for surprise as he instantly felt reenergized. "Now Mr. Potter, I would like you to answer some questions for me. Honesty is the key here, Mr. Potter. It is most beneficial to your health for you to be completely truthful. Now, can you promise me you will do this, or will I have to give you a truth serum?"

"No, Madame, I'll be good," Harry responded with a cheeky smile, settling down and figuring he had nothing better to do.

"Right, Mr. Potter, has there ever been a period of time when you have not felt like your normal self and thoughts raced through your head or you couldn't slow your mind down?" she asked.

"Erm… no?" he answered. Harry realised suddenly how difficult this situation was. Madame Pomphrey, while a trusted person in Dumbledore's eyes, was not a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Did she know about Harry being possessed by Voldemort and the strange dreams he kept having as a result of their connection? More importantly, did Dumbledore know Harry was being questioned and want him to answer honestly, or was Madame Pomphrey simply doing her job?

"Has there ever been a period of time when you have not felt like your normal self and you got much less sleep than usual and found you didn't really miss it?"

"No…"

"Has there ever been a period of time when you have not felt like your normal self and you were much more social or outgoing than usual, for example, you owled friends in the middle of the night?"

"Well, I have to owl my friends during the night in the summer because my uncle won't let me let my owl out during the day. He doesn't really let me let her out in the night that much either," Harry replied. "But that's normal for me." Madame Pomphrey conjured a sheet of parchment and was currently copying notes down furiously.

"Right, Has there ever been a period of time when you have not felt like your normal self and you did things that were unusual for you or that other people might have thought were excessive, foolish, or risky?"

"I usually do things that people consider excessive, foolish, or risky, but they turned out to be essential."

"Right," she replied, copying his answer down nonetheless. "Has there ever been a period of time when you were not your usual self and you felt so good or so hyper that other people thought you were not your normal self or you were so hyper that you got into trouble?"

"No, I mean, I've gotten into trouble, just not because I'm hyper…"

"Has there ever been a period of time when you were not your usual self and you were much more interested in sex than usual?"

"No!" Harry said embarrassed, his face turning bright red. Madame Pomphrey regarded him for a few moments in a way that Harry reminded greatly of Dumbledore.

"Has there ever been a period of time when you were not your usual self and spending money got you or your family into trouble?"

"No, never."

"Right, okay then, about your uncle, have you ever felt frightened by him?" she asked, observing Harry closely.

"Not really, he's a little too round around the middle to be frightening, if you know what I mean." Harry swore the nurse smiled as she jotted his response down.

"Has he ever restrained you using force?"

"Well, yes, when I was eleven, when my letter from Hogwarts came, we had a little incident. He didn't want me to read it and I did. There was some restraining, some tossing around, that kind of stuff."

"He didn't want you to read your Hogwarts letter?" she asked, shocked.

"He is one hundred percent against the wizarding race. He's the kind of person you'd see holding pitchforks and burning witches at the stake," Harry said. The nurse wrote down several notes at this before continuing.

"Has he ever used his physical size to intimidate or scare you?"

"Hard not to be scared of his size, but no."

"For periods of two weeks or more, do you feel tired, having little energy, or unable to concentrate?"

"During exam time, sure."

"Do you have trouble sleeping or eating too little or too much?"

"Only when I have nightmares," Harry replied darkly, he knew that the nightmares he was having would be a problem for the nurse.

"How often do you have these nightmares?" she asked, meeting his eyes with an intense glance.

"Often," he answered, unwilling slightly to elaborate.

"Often enough to hinder your day to day activities, like school, homework, or relationships with friends?"

"Often enough I guess." At this answer, the nurse conjured a plain red journal and handed it to Harry.

"Would you be willing to record them in this book?" she asked.

"I'm assuming you would be reading them, right?" he responded in turn.

"Yes." He hesitated for a moment. Answering a whole bunch of obscure questions was one thing, but his dreams were something else all together. What would she think about his dreams of Sirius? Ever since the day of Sirius' death he had been dreaming the same dream over again. The look of astonishment and worst of all fear on his face as his body fell through the ark; almost poetic in it's perfection and clarity. "Harry?"

"Okay," he said, as he plucked the journal from her hands. He didn't think he had a real choice here. The real test would be being truthful or not in his dreams later.

"Ah, Poppy, how did your examination of young Mr. Potter go?" Professor Dumbledore asked, smiling happily at the woman who had just sat in the seat across form him. Reaching out and grabbing an eccentric candy dish from his desk, he procured it. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you, Headmaster. As for Potter, he seems in as good a mental condition as possible for someone who's been through so much. He does seem to be having trouble with nightmares, maybe anxiety based. And from what I could ascertain from Mr. Potter, his uncle seems to be slightly abusive. It might be best for us to remove Mr. Potter from-"

"That is, unfortunately, impossible. Anything else that could be causing his delusions?" the Headmaster asked calmly, gazing at his interlocked hands.

"No, amazingly enough, from what I could determine, he has no critical mental illnesses that would cause delusions. Though I have not fully examined him, the symptoms causing delusions would have shown through in my basic assessment."

"Interesting," Dumbledore replied, seemingly lost in thought.

"Headmaster, have you considered at all that he might be telling the truth?" the nurse asked carefully.

"That thought had occurred to me. Honestly, it would astound me if he were; I've never encountered this before. We must, however, keep our minds open. In the meantime, keep Mr. Potter in the Hospital Wing and continue observation."


	12. Passion and Points

In Time and Space

Chapter 12 – Passion and Points

Note: To the lawyers: I don't own anything. To my sister: Thanks! To the readers: Enjoy!

After Madame Pomphrey had finished her game of fifty questions she had disappeared, leaving Harry all alone with nothing to do. He considered leaving, but had decided against it. A lot of people who cared for him thought that this would help him and he wasn't about to turn down their thoughtful concern.

He had just started to doze off when she came through the door carrying an armful of books. She smiled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek as she sat down and placed the books on his bedside table.

"How you doing?" she asked.

"Bored out of my bloody mind! What books did you bring me?" he replied, greedily grabbing the topmost book.

"We've got some newspaper archives from the past six months, some old year books, just a hunch, and a lovely assortment of Quidditch volumes for your reading pleasure," she said, counting the books off on her fingers.

"Nice, and you just carried them up here?" Harry asked, flipping through his Quidditch book.

"Relax Harry, I think I know better than you that I have to be careful," she said, as she looked him over. He looked good, rested and relaxed, a little stir-crazy maybe, but good. His hair was adorably messed up from sleeping and his attention was completely focused on his book. He furrowed his brow at one point in his reading and she felt a swell of adoration rise in her.

He suddenly looked up at her and she smiled at him. "You're cute," she stated simply. Her smile growing as she saw the heat rise up in his face.

"You're not so bad either," he replied, taking her hand in his.

"Wow, what high compliments," she laughed as he placed a tender kiss on the back of her hand. She couldn't help but think about her vision she had before and she removed her hand from his. "Harry, yesterday I had another vision, it was about us and the same robed men from the orphanage. It was… scary."

"What happened?" Harry asked, placing the book back on the table. A noise at the door made the pair start, and the girl took the time to sort out her thoughts before continuing at his nod.

"We were outside, I think, but it was dark, and you were yelling at me. You weren't angry, I don't think, but you were desperate and then they grabbed you and took you somewhere. Then I was slipping away, like I was sinking down under the ground. I can't really explain it."

"What do you think it means?" Harry asked. She shrugged her shoulders. "Well, we'll just have to deal with one thing at a time, okay? Let's start with this orphanage thing, and then we'll figure that one out. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, still unsure.

"Don't worry, Hogwarts is the safest place in the world, no one will be able to hurt us here."

"I know, that's not what's bothering me. It was the feeling of... I can't really explain it. It was like being pulled away from… yourself, like torn apart inside, but as a whole," she felt tears of frustration come to her eyes as she struggled to explain her fear.

"Shhh… it's okay. Come here," Harry said, sliding over in his bed and patting the space next to him. She climbed up and lay down beside him as he stroked her matted brown hair. Sliding her arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder, she buried her face into his shirt. He kissed her forehead softly and whispered in her ear: "It's okay, you're safe here, always."

The girl sniffled into his pyjama shirt, her flow of tears quickly abating as she realised how many times Harry had seen her cry.

"Sorry I'm being so girly, Harry, it must suck to have a human waterfall as a girlfriend," she said with a sad smile as she sat up a little straighter.

"Hey, you may be a human waterfall, but you're _my_ human waterfall," he joked. "Seriously, though, you just have to relax a little. I've gone through some pretty crazy things in my life and I've always managed to pull through." He smiled and kissed her softly again.

"You know, I might just need something to take my mind off all this stuff," she said with a smile, looking up at him and batting her eyelashes. He laughed in response and replied:

"I think I might be able to help you there, my dear." His hand found its way under her chin and he lifted it slowly, angling her head slightly as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. She let her eyes droop closed and relaxed into his embrace, allowing the sensations of his lips against hers to tingle down her body. Their position on his bed made for easy access and she let her hand drift across his midsection, feeling the rippling muscles spasm under her fingers as she continued her exploration. Harry moaned softly and broke away from her lips to investigate the tantalizing skin between her neck and shoulders.

Feeling daring, Harry placed a wet kiss upon her collarbone and licked along the tendons of her neck slowly at her pleasured moan. He marvelled at the heat he felt there and the quickening pulse fluttering under his mouth as he suckled at her neck.

Unable to take his teasing, she leaned back against the pillow and lost herself in the sensations he was creating. She gripped his back harder as he moved over her and arched herself closer to the warmth of his body. Running her hands through his messed hair, she pulled his head back up to her mouth and planted a kiss upon his grinning lips. Before she could deepen the kiss, however, the door to the Hospital Wing suddenly opened with a bang and Harry jumped away from her quickly at the two figures that swept into the room.

Professor Snape stopped in his tracks and released his hold of Draco Malfoy as his eyes rested upon the blushing boy lying awkwardly in bed. Snape's glittering eyes slowly took in the boy's heavy breathing and his guilty face and Snape sneer in greed at the situation.

"What have you been doing, Mr. Potter, that has gotten you so… worked up?" his baritone voice rang out, deadly in its implication.

"Nothing, Professor. I just… woke up from an odd dream is all," Harry stated, rearranging himself on the mattress with a shuffle. Snape immediately noticed the odd malformation in the mattress as Harry moved and promptly swiped at the air around the boy's bed.

"Perhaps you have had a visitor, Mr. Potter, one that I cannot see because they are under your illegal invisibility cloak. Is it Ms. Granger, Mr Potter? Or perhaps it is some other member of your adoring fan club?" Snape said, a nasty tone to his voice that sent Draco into a delicious grin.

"Nobody's here, Professor," Harry replied coldly as Snape's hand passed straight through the girl's mortified figure.

"I do believe I heard Potter speaking to someone in here, Professor. In fact, I'm sure I heard his voice," Draco piped up, sending a jolt of dread down Harry's spine. Was Draco bluffing, or had he actually overheard half of their conversation?

"Yes, well, for being found in a compromising position, Potter, I'm afraid I will have to deduct thirty points from Gryffindor. See that it doesn't happen again, Potter, or it will be one hundred and a weeklong detention. As for your companion, I'm afraid I will have to deduct thirty points from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff; seeing as the likelihood that a Slytherin would be interested in a big-headed and arrogant little boy is quite slim. And, of course, twenty points to Slytherin for Draco's testimony to your… frolicking," Snape said, and Harry felt an intense rage fill him at the man's words. Draco had burst into laughter loudly in the corner and Harry's hand twitched towards his wand before he could help himself.

Fortunately for both Harry and Draco, Madame Pomphrey chose that moment to come out of her office, thereby distracting Professor Snape from Harry's instinctive action.

"What is going on here, Professor Snape? Mr. Malfoy, are you ill?" the matron questioned.

"Draco was just coming to the Hospital Wing to get a headache potion when he overheard Mr. Potter having a suspicious conversation with an invisible person. I have assessed the situation and had just disciplined Mr. Potter for his disgusting behaviour when you interrupted, Madame Pomphrey," Snape summarized quickly and the matron turned her disapproving glare to Harry.

"Well then, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid there will be no more visitors for you until the designated visiting hour, you'll just have to wait like all my other patients. Come here Mr. Malfoy, and I will get you that potion…"

Later that afternoon, after what seemed like countless hours of reading, Harry had given up the search in boredom and had settled down to observe the girl beside him. Still as unsure of what had brought her into his life as he had been three days ago, he was feeling oddly content with their situation. Granted, the guilt he felt at his happiness with her was a little disconcerting, but on the whole, he simply wasn't worried about where she came from. Not even the thought of her being his imagination seemed to worry him; they had already established how real she was through their physical relationship. No matter how hard he may try, he knew he could never have imagined up the feelings he got when they kissed. Heck, he was almost knocked sideways in surprise at their first kiss.

Harry remembered the moment fondly, realising only now that he had kissed her in desperation to make her real. The confidence she gave him in that simple act, however, had given him the ease he now possessed. Looking over at the brunette that was currently skimming quickly over the pages of an old newspaper, Harry wondered vaguely what she might look like out of her worn, baby blue pyjamas, or maybe with her hair tied up. He mulled over the thought in his head for a while and was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice her lifting her head to stare back at him.

"What are you staring at, Mr Potter?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He met her eyes and was slightly appalled to feel the heat rising up in his face. He had, after all, been imagining his girlfriend in a bathing suit when she had interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh… ahh… nothing," he said weakly, and glanced down at her paper in deliberate interest. "Did you find anything interesting in there?"

"No, not really. Not anything in fact. I wasn't really hoping for much anyway. I guess I just feel better doing something rather than just sitting around," she answered ad Harry felt relieved at the successful change of topic. "Nice diversion, by the way," she said with a grin.

Harry opened his mouth to cheekily respond when his two friends made their entrance.

"Hello, Harry. Had a perfectly wonderful day relaxing here in the Hospital Wing?" Ron asked sullenly, kicking the girl out of her chair forcefully by nearly sitting down on top of her. She squeaked and clambered away quickly, falling crudely to the floor as Hermione gave the redhead a disapproving look.

"Honestly, Ron, if Professor Dumbledore says it's important for Harry to have a stay in the Hospital Wing, then it is important for Harry to have a stay in the Hospital Wing, isn't it?" she said, and although she had just scolded Ron for his improper treatment, Harry could hear a distinctive tone of annoyance in her voice that he was sure was not directed entirely at Ron.

"So, did you bring me my newspaper, then?" Harry asked, his voice matching Hermione's in annoyance. He found himself feeling quite put out by their cold shoulders and he couldn't help the temper that flared to the surface.

Hermione sighed in defeat and rummaged through her bag for a few moments before procuring the paper for Harry. Before Harry even got a chance to take the Daily Prophet, however, the girl snatched it out of Hermione's hand, much to the surprise of Ron and Hermione.

"Harry! Here it is! Right on the front page!" she exclaimed, looking at the page for a mere moment before passing it to Harry.

"_Death Eaters Attack Muggle Orphanage_," he read the headline aloud, and turned to face the pale girl beside him. "This means your vision was real, I mean, you actually saw the future."

"The future? It wasn't the present then?" she asked, shakily sitting on the mattress beside him and looking over his shoulder to read the article.

"Nope, it says here that the attack took place last night at around midnight. You had your vision just after lunch yesterday," he responded quickly.

"Wait a second, Harry. Your… friend… or whatever… I mean, the girl only you can see foretold the future?" Ron asked, his brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief.

"Yes, yesterday when I left History of Magic, she had come to tell me that she had a vision about Death Eaters attacking an orphanage somewhere. She saw it during the night time and I went to tell Dumbledore when he confined me to the Hospital Wing," he finished the last part angrily, still sore over the Headmaster's treatment.

"Well, this is good, isn't it Harry? I mean, with the vision being true and all, now Dumbledore can believe you for real. He might even let you out of the Hospital Wing!" Hermione said, jumping to her feet suddenly and grabbing his arm to pull him to his feet.

"Hermione! While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I'm not dressed to see Dumbledore and I doubt Pomphrey will just let me walk out of here. I had to beg her not to drug me this morning and she was not exactly happy with me when I last saw her," he said, sitting back down on the bed with a frown,

"What were you two doing, exactly?" Ron asked, his face a strange cross between delight and disgust. "I mean, did she catch you… you know… doing _that_…like, by yourself?"

"Ewww! God, your friend is perverted, you know that?!" the girl exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the redhead, now sporting a red face.

"Ron! Honestly, Harry wouldn't do that in the middle of the day in the Hospital Wing," Hermione said over the girl's words, a similar face of disgust on the two girls. Harry just shook his head and laughed, suddenly realising how much he had missed the playful banter of his two friends.


End file.
